Narcissa Malfoy: A Real Mother
by BookWorm77071
Summary: A response to Skye Elf's challenge. Read that if you want to really get this story, or read one of the best fanfiction's on this site. Rated K: No language, no abuse, just love.


**A/N: Hi! Well, this is an answer to a challenge by Skye Elf.** **It won't make much sense unless you read Skye Night, so I recommend you do that if you want to understand this, or just want to read one of the best fanfics on this site.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>I am cooking breakfast.<p>

Most Pure-Blood woman will scorn me, but my son has just returned from school. I haven't seen him for so long, and I have missed him. I want to cook him food like a real mother would.

Draco, my son, is coming down. He cocks his head to the side when he sees me cooking. He shouldn't. Pancakes are simple.

"An owl arrived for you, Draco," I say. "I wasn't aware that the Goyle's or the Crabbe's taught Vincent or Greggory to write."

"Ha-ha," Draco says. "I have other friends, you know."

"Oh, right. Theodore and Blaze."

"I have friends who are girls, Mum."

"I don't believe it," I say immediately.

He rolls his eyes, and goes to read the letter.

"It's from Pansy."

"Pansy?"

"Parkinson."

I nod. I know the Parknison's. I quite like them.

He writes a reply, and asks me for some more parchment. I frown.

"You just wrote the letter to Pansy."

"Well, yeah," he says. "But now I want to write a letter to someone else.

"Hm," I say, and fetch him some parchment. Just like a real mother would.

I look over his shoulder, but he doesn't write anything.

"Mum, what are you doing?"

"Monitoring your mail," I say matter-of-factly.

"Well, can you go away?" he asks, annoyed.

"No." I will stay to monitor my son's mail. Just like a real mother would.

He sighs dramatically and begins to write.

_Dear Skye,_

"Skye?" I ask. "Who's Skye?"

"Friend of mine."

"But... Skye is a girl name."

He looks at me like I've done something crazy. "Mum, Skye is a girl."

I laugh. He huffs, and writes his letter. But I'm not a bad person for making my son annoyed. I'm just teasing, like a real mother would.

_There I go with the 'dear' again._

He's written to her before?

_You should know that as I'm writing this my mother is leaning over my shoulder and laughing, because she does not believe me when I say I have a friend that is a girl._

"You don't, Draco."

_So, please reply soon? I don't like having my mother see me as a liar or someone with an overactive imagination. How has your holiday been so far? And how is that little princess you call Shadow? I've developed quite a soft spot for that thing, so I am sending a treat with this letter._

"You know, Draco, you're a funny boy, and a good writer."

_My holidays have been fine. I'm forced to say that, as my mother is still leaning over my shoulder. She finds this letter extremely funny. I've wanted to thank you for the Christmas gift, but I kept forgetting. I like it. You should've seen Crabbe's reaction when it bit him. He almost passed out. That was when I told him that Salazar was only plastic and therefor couldn't cause him any damage. His expression was precious!_

I am laughing harder.

_It's raining outside here. You'd like it._

She likes the rain.

"You'll have to remember that, Draco," I say seriously, "for when you get married. She'll want a wedding in the rain."

"Ugh!"

"I can't wait to meet her!"

_I take it you'll be in London the day after we receive our letters? I hope so. My mother is keen to meet you, as she thinks you are a figment of my imagination. It's a sad day when one's own mother won't believe you anymore._

I smack his head lightly.

_And now she just hit me. Tell me, do I look like a punching bag, my friend? Because if I do, you must really help me lift this curse._

I do it again.

_Again, a slap to the head. Please write back immediately. I do not wish to have a cracked skull._

_Draco_

"I won't crack your skull," I say, hugging him tight.

"No, but you'll break my ribs!"

I laugh, and push him lightly to the kitchen island, where he hops on a bar stool.

I give him a plate of pancakes, with butter and maple syrup.

_I know what my son likes_, I think as I watch him eagerly devour the pancakes.

_Just like a real mother would._

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><p><strong>AN: So... Review? Especially you, Skye!**


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